Leather & Lace
by Drowning in Chaos
Summary: They say there's a thin line between love and hate. Four years after their bad break up, her ex is back in town. Is the tightrope between love and hate really worth walking after everything they did to hurt each other?
1. Return of the Ex

**FAGE 9: The Last Ride**

 **Title: Leather & Lace**

 **Written for: Deonne**

 **Written by: Drowning in Chaos**

 **Pairing: Isabella & Paul**

 **Rating: M**

 **Prompts Used:**

 **Prompt 1- 'A gentleman holds your hand, A man pulls your hair, A soulmate will do both.'**

 **Prompt 4 – Friends, to enemies, to lovers (though I kinda did lovers to enemies to lovers)**

 **If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the facebook group: Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleeps or add the C2 to get all the stories direct to your inbox.**

 **Community/FAGE-9-The-Last-Ride/93625/**

 **This story has not been beta'd as I really wanted to get this story out for a lovely lady that missed out on her gift. All mistakes are my own.**

 **I truly hope I have done your prompts justice and thank you for playing a part in something that has been going for almost a decade. It is so bittersweet to see FAGE come to an end.**

 **Special thanks to VampMama for being the pillar of FanficAholics Anon's FAGE for the past 8 rounds, and to Speklez for putting her hand up to run one last FAGE.**

 **RETURN OF THE EX**

"I asked for my eggs to be hard, this is soft, and I don't know what you'd call this bread, but it certainly isn't sourdough!"

I look down at the plate the customer has thrust angrily toward me. Her poached egg has been cut in half, its golden centre looking very well done as it sits atop the sourdough bread that looks a lot like sourdough.

"Here's a suggestion – go fuck yourself, you conceited bitch."

Is what I want to say. Instead I sigh dramatically and plaster on a smile.

"I'm so sorry for that. Let me get the chef to fix that up for you and I'll get you a free coffee in the meantime."

"UGH! FINE! But it better be right next time. I'll have an extra shot vanilla latte. No sugar," she snaps, before turning on her heels and heading back to her table.

It takes all my might not to flip her off behind her back. My eyes do follow her to her table though and I watch as the customer shakes her head and gestures wildly with her hands while dramatically telling her table mates what terrible tragedy she's just been through, all before she even reaches her chair. I watch her sit gingerly and my breath catches when I see who she's sitting with.

My gut clenches and twists. Something terrible is about to happen. I know it, they know it, the whole world knows it, yet I just can't look away.

Maybe I'm way too curious for my own good.

Maybe it's just plain stupidity.

For whatever reason, just like anyone does when there's a horrific accident happening right before their eyes, I watch it unfold as if in slow mo.

All at once the rest of the table look in my direction. Dark, familiar eyes stare at me and I'm hopelessly rooted to my spot, so I stare back, and I do my best to garner what it is they are feeling.

It's not quite embarrassment, possibly more of an apologetic look.

Well, two of them do, but not the third person. He – well he just looks amused.

His eyes crinkle at the edges as a smug smile takes form and then, fork in hand, he gives me a small wave.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and a shiver runs through my body as though a draft has just been let in. I look away and busy myself by writing down the coffee order and sliding it across to Jessica even though I know she heard the debacle. Picking up the plate I storm into the kitchen and let Peter know what the customer said and, before he has time to cuss about the whole thing, I yell out the table number it needs to be delivered to and walk out the side exit.

The stench of food scraps nearly makes me turn around and go back inside, but instead I lean against the red brick wall and close my eyes. Deep breaths simultaneously calm my heart rate and desensitises me to the horrendous smell of rotting food emanating from the nearby bins.

The sound of the side door opening and closing makes me jump.

"Just me." Jessica already has a cigarette hanging from her lips and I watch as she pulls a lighter from her pocket and lights it. Smoke slowly makes its way toward me and I swat it away. "So, Paul's in town," she says casually, before blowing out more smoke.

I groan and lean back onto the wall.

"Who's the crazy bitch?"

I glance at her and can't help but laugh when she smiles at me.

"I asked for hard eggs!" she mimics. "My fake eyelashes are outrageous and I have a face like a cat's ass, now give me a vanilla latte!"

We both laugh until Jessica's laugh turns into a cough.

"You need to give that shit up," I say, for what feels like the hundredth time.

"One day," she muses, before putting her cigarette out on the wall and tossing the butt into the bin.

"We better get back in before Peter loses his shit. The trainee has already delivered food to the wrong table twice." She laughs and puts her hand on the door handle, but then glances back at me. "You okay?"

I nod and brush my apron down for no reason except to break eye contact.

"Whoever she is, she's got nothing on you."

I look back up and smile at the sincerity in her eyes. "Thanks."

The quietness of the outside world is shattered the moment we step back into the kitchen. Plates clatter and Peter's usual nonsensical mumbling have become outspoken insults, of which only half are said in English.

I watch momentarily as he points to something on the plate in front of him and lists all the things that are wrong with it, making James throw the contents out and start again. As soon as he moves to the service window, I cut in before he can scar the new trainee on his first day.

"I'll take these." I pick up the two waiting plates and sigh in relief when I see they are for a table at the opposite end to where Paul's family and his new _thing_ are sitting.

As I step out on the floor I dare a glance in the direction of their table and feel uneasy when I see it is empty. My eyes meet Jessica's and she points inconspicuously at Victoria, our front end manager, who looks a remarkable shade of red all over, her eyebrows so furrowed they resemble a ginger caterpillar – if there is such a thing. She's pissed. Something went down and I can't wait to hear all about it, so I deliver the plates as fast as I can. By the time I make it back, Victoria has already started seething.

"… and then she told me to look up sourdough and how it's made, and to then pass that info on to our supplier. Crazy fucking bitch is lucky I didn't jump the counter and rip her fake ass eyelashes off and tape her mouth shut with them," she finished.

Jessica and I burst out laughing.

"What is with those eyelashes?" I add.

"Ugh!" Jessica rolls her eyes. "They looked super trashy, and don't even get me started on that lip liner. Who does she think she is? Kylie Jenner?"

"Probably." A male voice stops us in our tracks.

Paul is standing at the counter, face smug as shit, one eyebrow raised and looking directly at me. I'm a deer in headlights, but I can see in my peripheral vision that my colleagues have had no problem in finding their legs and using them.

 _Bitches._

"I … um … hi?" It comes out more as a question.

"Hey. I just wanted to apologise for my cousin's behaviour earlier…"

 _Cousin? Does that mean she's not his …_

I notice that he's still talking and try to tune back in.

"… so if you want to come?"

I shake my head to see if anything he just said subconsciously got saved in there somewhere. Nada.

"I'm sorry what?" I ask, unsure.

"I said it's Avery's birthday party at our place tonight, did you want to come? She'd love to see you there."

Ah, sweet, sweet Avery. I miss that kid. I haven't seen her much in years. Hell, I haven't seen much of Paul's family since we broke up and he moved state. I think it helped that I moved to the city an hour away from our small town. Thinking about it I guess Avery would be about eighteen now.

"If you don't want to … I mean … Look, don't worry about it –"

"Sure, I'll be there," I cut him off.

He smiles, and I feel a pang in my chest. Amazing how sometimes your memories don't quite compare to seeing the real thing right in front of you.

"Okay, great. I'll see you there."

With a small wave he turns and walks out the door.

As if performing a magic trick, my co-workers appear out of nowhere and surround me.

"Holy shit," Victoria whispers.

"Holy shit," Jessica echoes.

And with that, they get back to work and I'm left to assemble my thoughts and work out what the fuck is going on with my heart.


	2. The Party

**THE PARTY**

I am purposefully late. Fashionably late if you will. Loud music can be heard from the street front. Peoples shadows can be seen in the lit up windows. I am strangely comforted by the sight of a familiar car, Paul's. When I walk in the opened door I am accosted by a group of Avery's friends. Their faces are familiar but their names have slipped from my memory.

"Oh my god! Izzy!" A pretty blonde embraces me and I awkwardly return it. "Avery is just in the kitchen; she's going to be so surprised to see you!"

I'm confused. Was I not invited? Is this one of Paul's pranks? Suddenly I feel like an intruder, and I am hesitant to continue with this whole charade, but the blonde pushes me in the direction of the kitchen and I let my feet do the rest of the work.

In the kitchen is Avery, her parents, and who I now know is her cousin. The cousin sees me first and looks at me confused.

"Hey." I hesitate again.

Avery and her parents look up. Mr and Mrs Lahote smile politely, while Avery does a double take, before letting out an ear piercing scream.

"Oh my God! Izzy!" She tackles me into a hug.

 _Déjà vu._

"This is for you."

She loosens her grip on me and I hold up a badly wrapped present. As I watch her rip into it I realise I made a wise decision not spending more time on perfectly wrapping the gift. Which is just a lame make up bag with a new lipstick in it. The same lipstick I wear, and the very same lipstick she used to ask me to put on her when she was twelve. Truth be told, I had both things at home, I just hadn't used them yet and both were still in their packaging. To be fair, it's not like I had a lot of notice to get something.

Regardless, her eyes light up. "Izzy!" She smiles at me, teeth and all. I'm gripped into another hug, and I return it just as vigorously. "It's perfect! I love this colour!"

Looking over her shoulder I see Mr and Mrs Lahote are still smiling politely and the cousin still looks really confused. So am I when the hug is cut short and I'm shoved back and spun around.

"Look who's here!" Avery declares proudly to Paul, who is now standing in the archway to the kitchen.

He shrugs casually. "Yeah, I know. I invited her."

"You did?" Avery, understandably, sounds confused. To be fair, her brother and I didn't really end on great terms. On top of that, we haven't spoken in years. Four years to be exact.

A loud crash from the other room breaks the tension and all five of us rush in to see what it is. Someone has broken a vase. Some long lost uncle who then apologises profusely, slurring his words. Figuring it's not my circus, I move back into the kitchen to see if I can find something to do.

Seeing that the oven is on I open it up to discover some mini quiches that are well and truly ready to come out. I find an oven mitt, pull out the tray, and place it on top of the stove.

"Just as I remember."

I turn around to see Paul watching me. Lost for words, I shake my head slowly and look away.

"I saw your dad today." He breaks the silence.

"Yeah?" I can't decide where to look, but I know I don't want to look at him, so I turn around and keep my hands busy by moving the quiches onto a platter.

There's commotion in the other room and I hear a shuffling, but I don't look behind me.

"He told me you delayed your studies for a year." His voice is closer. His tone so familiar to my ears that my body can't help but react to it.

With all the quiches lined up on the platter, I slowly turn to face him. He's close enough now that I have to look up to meet his gaze. I half expect to see his usual smirk in place, but instead he almost looks interested in hearing my reply.

I open my mouth to say something, but my reply is cut short by fake eyelashes and horrendous pink eyeshadow.

"Paul! I was wondering where you got to!"

Without reading the situation, eyelashes saunters in and puts her arm around Paul's waist. He rests a casual arm around her shoulders.

My gut twists at the sight.

"I don't believe we've met. My name is Jane." She extends her hand as though her bitchy behaviour earlier today never happened.

 _Maybe she doesn't recognise me?_

"Izzy," I reply and give her perfectly manicured hand a firm shake.

"You work in that wretched café we went to today don't you?"

 _Ah, so she does remember._

"Guilty," I reply shortly. "And you're Paul and Avery's cousin?" I ask, doing my best to sound somewhat friendly and stop myself from ripping those eyelashes off.

She shoots me a look of disdain and glances quickly up at Paul, before looking back at me.

"Only by marriage, so … you know …"

 _No I don't._

She leans her head on Paul's shoulder and looks at me with a fake smile. "So how do you know my Paul?"

 _ **Your**_ _Paul?_

My head is about to explode. I can't believe what I am seeing. This girl is crushing and Paul hasn't spoken and I don't know what to think. My mouth moves faster than my brain and I can't help the bitterness in my voice.

"We used to fuck. A lot." I smirk like a motherfucker and walk out of there so fast I nearly bowl over a vase on the side table. _Seriously, how many vases can a woman have?_ I stop momentarily to right it, before walking out the front door, barely closing it behind me.

I am still fighting to get my key into the lock of my old ass truck when I hear his voice behind me.

"Well, shit."

I jiggle my key harder, as if that's going to get me in quicker.

"I shouldn't have come." I finally get the key to turn in the lock, but his hand is on the door before I can open it.

"Are you kidding? That was possibly the best part of the whole night."

I look down and see his shoes in my peripheral vision. I breathe deeply, trying to steady my heart rate, and turn slowly. He casually leans side on against my car door, and I give in. I lean back, tilt my head to the sky and sigh heavily.

"That girl has been crushing on me for years. It's creepy as fuck."

"I'll say," I reply, still looking at the stars. I can feel him watching me, but I can't meet his gaze.

This isn't how I imagined my day going when I woke up for work this morning.

"You should have seen her face just then. I think you've made an enemy for life," he chuckles.

"Yay," I say sarcastically. "Another one."

I glance at him, and try to look away, but I can't. His eyes demand my attention, and he has it. All of it.

"I don't hate you, Bella." Hearing him use his nickname for me makes my heart skip a beat. "We were young. Stupid and young."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Sometimes I hate you," he admits. "If I think about it too long."

"Me too."

He shifts off my car and nods toward the keys in my hand. "Want to go for a drive? Talk about it?"

I glance down at my keys. I don't know why I say what I am about to say, it just kind of slips out involuntarily.

"Yeah, okay."


	3. Leather & Lace

**LEATHER AND LACE**

Twenty minutes later and we were at the beach carpark. I cut the engine and silence envelopes us, bar for the sound of the waves gently caressing the shore.

"I'm moving back."

His voice is thick, cutting through the silence, and his words echo around my mind. I stare straight ahead watching the moonlight ripple in the water.

"I got a job in Seattle. I start next week."

My processor is slow. Too slow for him to comprehend.

"Nothing? Surely you have something to say? You always have something to say." He chuckles nervously.

Fire burns in my stomach. It flickers in my chest and I can't stop the tirade that's about to come.

"What do you want me to say, Paul? Oh that's great, let's be friends! Let's be the best of friends!? I mean we haven't spoken in four years and at the end of our last conversation – if you could even call it that – you basically told me not to call you ever again. Your exact words were 'stay out of my fucking life!' Am I just meant to forget all of that?"

"I was angry." His tone is deep, controlled, barely. I can tell he's about to blow.

" _You_ were angry? You cheated on me!" I bellow.

"You cheated on me first!" he retaliates.

"You were meant to come back. You said you were coming back for the holidays." My voice cracks and I swallow emotions that threaten to come out in another form.

"So that gives you a valid reason for cheating on me?" He turns to face me and I turn to challenge him.

"I thought it was the end, what was the point in continuing if you weren't going to ever be home?"

"So you sabotaged us?"

Realisation hits me.

"You do hate me." I point out quietly.

"Yes. I fucking hate you." His gaze is hard. His voice cold.

I look down and will myself not to cry.

"And I fucking love you. Always have. Always will. Whether you return those feelings or not."

Our eyes meet again and I'm overwhelmed by the way he's looking at me and the way every inch of my body yearns to be touched by him.

He leans in and cups my face. I revel in the warmth as his thumb brushes away a stray tear. Soon there's no space to breathe. His breath and my breath are one in the same. Our eyes wait until the very last moment to close, and then our lips meet.

It is passion of every kind. Love. Hate. And everything in between. It's old and familiar, and yet new and sweet.

Paul pulls away and I stare at him in bewilderment. He pulls me gently onto his lap, his hands grip my ass and mine fall flat on the leather seat either side of his head. We look each other in the eyes momentarily before continuing. Our shirts come off among furious kisses, and our embrace stops only long enough for us to undress completely. I have barely a moment to thank my past self for putting on nice lace knickers earlier, before I am pulled back on top of him.

There are no words. No questions. No answers. There's no foreplay and no preparation. He pulls my hair. I arch my back. It's feverish thrusting and communal noises of pleasure and pain.

It's done in mere minutes.

Both spent and still, reality starts to set in. Emotions come flooding back and I can't bear to look him in the eyes. I rest my head on his shoulder momentarily before shifting to move off him.

He holds me tighter, keeping me with him. His whispered words caress my bare skin.

"Stay, please."

The rollercoaster is real, the high has ended and the downward spiral hits hard. Silent tears flow and I barely have time to register what is happening before I am on my back across the leather seat, his body atop of mine. He pulls away slightly and looks down at me. The full moon illuminating his features perfectly. I look away and he gently turns my head back.

"Don't," he begs.

I look away again, fresh tears flow. "I'm sorry. I fucked up."

"We both did. We both did, Bella," He replies fervently. He turns my head again and searches my eyes.

"You hate me, though," I point out.

"And you hate me," he smirks. "But … fuck, if this is what happens when we hate each other, I'm cool with that."

I can't help but laugh. He cuts it short with a kiss. And another. He stops to admire me before kissing me once more.

"I fucking love you," he whispers onto my lips.

"I fucking love you," I whisper back.

"I lied," he murmurs between kisses.

I pull back and look at him in confusion.

" _This_ is the best part of the whole night." He smirks and I smile back.

"Hmmm, I don't know, the drive here was pretty awesome," I reply offhandedly.

He thinks for a moment and then quirks an eyebrow. "But we barely talked."

"Exactly!" I grin.

He feigns a look of shock and then laughs. "Fuck I missed you."

He kisses me again, and before long the passion builds up and we steam up the windows a second time round.

 **THE END**

 _NB: Thanks for reading. Feel free to feed my ego by clicking the review button. I may have a bonus chapter from Paul's POV coming, but for now this story is complete._

 _Goodbye FAGE. You have been many things for many people, and for me, you were the muse I needed right at the moment you came along._


	4. Disarm - Paul POV

**DISARM**

Although it has only been a couple of weeks since I saw my parents at my graduation, I can't wait to get home. I reached my limit with Jane about one hour into the thirteen-hour drive, and, with about twenty minutes to go until we get home, I'm doing my best not to drive straight into a tree.

"It's so green here!" Her voice is like a fucked up fan belt in need of replacing.

I still don't understand why she insisted on coming up for a holiday. She's really not the outdoorsy kind and she's way too city for a place like Forks. She insisted she just has to be there for Avery's birthday, the one in the same Avery she's seen maybe twice before in the last eight years.

"Oh my God! That's so precious!"

I've given up feigning interest in all the ridiculous things she has found exciting on this mundane trip. I stare straight ahead and cheer internally when I see that we're five miles from home.

By the time we arrive, the sun is low in the sky. I help Jane carry her bags and usher her towards the house while she points out all the things she finds 'cute' about the façade.

As soon as I open the door, the smell of dinner hits me, and my stomach grumbles.

"My son is home!" My mother comes racing from the kitchen, arms open wide.

When I finally shake her off me I head down the hall and put the suitcases in our rooms. I notice that Avery's bedroom door is shut and I can hear music. I knock once, and enter.

Avery is on the bed, leaning between someone's legs. Someone who looks rather naked, bar for a sheet over their torso.

"Fuck," I move to cover my eyes.

"Fuck!" Avery curses.

I start to retreat, but Avery calls my name.

Her friend jolts up and accidentally bangs her head against Avery's and they both call out in pain. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, I laugh.

"We're waxing," Avery explains, as she moves off the bed.

I can see a little more clearly that her friend is in fact not naked. _Too bad_. But rather has a top on, and her bare legs are covered in a yellow sticky substance. The friend looks rather embarrassed and I smile in her direction to try make her feel more at ease. Her facial expression tells me that she has completely misread my intentions and now thinks that I'm a dirty perv.

"Well, uh, enjoy." I wave with a flick of my hand and make a hasty exit.

I make my way back to the family room and see dad sitting on one of the recliners, watching T.V. I sit in the one next to him and I'm about to ask what we're watching when we are told that dinner is ready.

I learn at the dinner table that Avery's friend's name is Stephanie. She's a Virgo who enjoys home waxing and is only fairly new to Forks. I zone out when Jane tries to drag me into her retelling of our trip here, as if my parents have never done that very same drive a hundred times before.

I help tidy up after dinner and feel relief when Jane excuses herself not long after and says she's off to bed.

"This is what silence sounds like. I'd almost forgotten," Dad says as he gets comfortable in his recliner.

Mom playfully slaps him. I throw my head back and laugh.

"Now you know why I could only live with uncle G for six months before I got my own place!"

"She's a very young nineteen-year-old is all," Mom defends her. "Her mother probably sheltered her a bit, being the only child. She was a single mother for a while before she met your uncle, you know. Give her some time to settle in. She's probably just a little nervous and is that type that talks when they're nervous."

"That's not nerves. She doesn't do silence. Trust me," I warn.

We watch T.V in silence for a while before mom turns to me.

"So what are you doing tomorrow? Maybe you should take Jane somewhere, show her the sights." she suggests.

I stall momentarily, and try my best to speak casually. "I was thinking I might go to the Green bean for lunch." I keep my eyes on the T.V, but I can feel I have both mom and dad's attention.

"In Port Angeles?" Mom asks.

"Well, there's not much to do in Forks," I point out. I glance at her and see her and dad are having some kind of silent conversation among themselves before she shrugs and looks at me.

"We might come too. Give Avery and her friends some space to prepare for her party tomorrow."

I Smile, knowing that mom and dad know exactly why I'm going to the Green Bean, and that they are only coming because they want to be spectators.

Not once in my life have I ever ironed a shirt, but today? Today I iron four shirts, because I don't which one to fucking wear. Smart casual? Dressy? Collar? No collar? I finally decide on a smart casual polo and do my best not to walk back in and change it when I meet my family in the kitchen.

"Ready?" Mom asks with a knowing smile.

"Yep," I reply shortly, and head out the door ahead of everyone else.

The drive to Port Angeles seems stupidly longer than usual. Once at the café I scan the place while my parents ask for a table. Having scanned the left side, I turn my attention to the right side, and I see her. Her back is to me, but I know that body. I know that walk. I know that voice. It seems another part of me remembers it too and I think of baseball, football and English assignments while following my parents to our table – which just happens to be on the opposite side to where she is currently serving.

Our waiter seems flustered by Jane and takes a while to write down her very picky order right. While they sort it out, I let my eyes scan the place again but there's no sign of her. I grow anxious and order the first thing that comes to mind when my turn finally comes.

The small talk at the table kills me, and mom can get a word in edgewise with Jane takes the reigns and starts babbling on. I'm just about to head to the counter and ask for her by name when the waiter arrives with our drinks and says our food is on its way.

"Wow, this coffee is actually really good," Jane seems genuinely surprised.

When the food arrives, I take another glance and think I catch a glimpse of her by the counter, but she moves out of sight. I begin to eat my chicken alfredo and hear noises coming from Jane.

"UGH! This isn't right! This isn't right at all!"

Before any of us has a chance to ask her what is wrong, she is storming up to the counter – where I now see Izzy is standing – plate in hand.

I don't hear her words, but I can hear the pitch and I watch as Izzy seemingly reigns in the urge to bitch slap Jane and plasters on a fake smile.

I can't help but grin in amusement, and the entertainment only gets better when I watch Izzy watching Jane walk away. If looks could kill, Jane's head would be all over the walls right now.

Izzy's eyes widen when she recognises my parents, and even more so when she sees me. I give her a little wave and watch with pleasure when she panics and flusters around, before disappearing from view.

I can feel eyes on me and I just know my mother is trying to garner my reaction. I ignore the outside interruption and eat my lunch, my thoughts wrapped up in Izzy's reaction to my being here. I'm barely aware of Jane's groaning about the not so terrible mix up with her order, and mom's noises of sympathy.

Jane is halfway through eggs benedict 2.0 when she pushes the plate to the middle of the table with a sour look on her face.

"Is there anywhere to go shopping in this place? I'd love to get something for mom," she asks mildly.

I'm almost shocked at her strangely meek behaviour, but that doesn't last long when we go to pay for our meals and she starts giving the redheaded girl behind the counter a lecture on sourdough bread. Izzy is nowhere to be seen, and, thinking on my feet, I tell my parents and Jane that I need to visit the little boys room and I'll catch them up later.

I do manage to take a piss, and I take my time washing and drying my hands, thinking about what I'm going to say to her if I do see her. I walk out slowly and glance around the corner before continuing. The whole café has quietened down considerably now that the lunch rush is over and I can see both Izzy and Jessica are talking to the redheaded girl. Hearing them bitch about my horrid cousin, I decide to cut in.

Izzy's face is something I will never forget. She is stunned and looks at me with a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

"I … Um … Hi?" she stutters.

I revel in her awkwardness and do my best to sound casual as I explain to her about Avery's party. When she stalls, I feel a sudden sense of doubt. _What the fuck are you doing Paul?_

I backtrack, poorly.

"Sure, I'll be there." It takes me a moment for her words to register and my heart suddenly speeds up a notch.

I do my best to make a casual exit and walk to my car quickly. My hands shake slightly as I pull out my phone and text my mom to see where they are. When she texts back that they've just walked into a souvenir shop, I tell her that I'll wait in the car. From here I am able to see Izzy any time she is near a window.

I feel like a creeper, but I don't move. I get three glances of her before my parents and Jane arrive back at the car some forty minutes later.

By the time we get home Avery has a handful of friends over, decorating the house for her party. While the others get into helping in the kitchen, I put up a few banners that need to go up high, then retreat to my room. I stay there until I see Izzy's car, and then I stay for five minutes more.

It takes everything I have to act casually. Seeing her, dressed in a tight knee length black skirt and fitting top, makes me feel ashamed at the terrible job my memories have done. Nothing compares to seeing her in the flesh. It's as if the last four years didn't happen. It feels like only yesterday I was holding her in the makeshift bed we made in the tray of her truck.

When I'm about to make my move, Jane interrupts, and again I reign in the nerves and act casual. Hearing Jane ask Izzy how she knows me and calling me her Paul makes me cringe, but I'm left gloriously gobsmacked when Izzy tells her that we used to fuck. A lot.

Jane's face when she looks at me is hilarious. I've never seen Jane speechless before, but here she is; mouth agape, eyes wide. I pull my arm off her shoulders and point in the direction Izzy.

"That girl? I love that girl." I chuckle at the whole ridiculousness of the situation and at how easy that was for me to admit.

I follow the hot trail the Izzy ripped up when she exited and I almost sigh in relief when I see that she hasn't left yet, thanks to the terrible lock on her shitty old truck.

When she finally turns around and allows me a glimpse at her I know that I can't let her go home. I need to talk to her. I need to clear the air. I need to know if we're too damaged to give this another shot. Assuming she's not already seeing someone. When she agrees to go for a drive and talk I can't contain my smile.

After what feels like hours of silence, I string together a sentence and blurt it out. She's quit for a whil, and then she throws me a curve ball.

She's not okay. These past four years _have_ happened, and she's intent on reminding me so. Our last argument hurt us both and it's not something we can skim over. We argue, our voices get louder with each reply, but then suddenly she falls quiet and I'm stunned to see her looking so vulnerable.

"You do hate me," she almost whispers.

"Yes. I fucking hate you," I admit. She has reminded me of just how much she hurt me.

Her face falls and I don't hesitate to tell her how I truly feel. What seeing her, even after all these years, has done to me. And then I show her just that. Feeling her, all of her, brings emotions to the surface that I've never felt for anyone else but her. I feel at home with her, and as I hold her after our second round, I tell her just this.

"Mmm," she agrees, and snuggles into me further.

We spend the next two hours talking, where I find out that Izzy spent her year off traveling Europe, but she starts back at Western Washington in Port Angeles after summer, to finish her nursing degree. She's hoping to do some of her prac and to eventually end up at Seattle Children's hospital, and specialising in paediatrics.

I tell her all about the amazing job I'll be starting in Seattle next month as an intern for a gaming company. Something I had spent the past four years at UCLA working towards. We come to the conclusion that we'll be living hours away from each other – albeit in the same state this time – and both under the pump with work and study. But we both agree that what we have is too real, and too important to let history repeat. Then we seal it with a hot as fuck make out session.

 **THE END**


End file.
